


and the morning glows melting gold

by Bluebell Barricade (FuzzyPurplePenguins)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional pairings + characters will be tagged when I decide on them, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, For Bucky and Reader that is, Reader can manipulate metal, Slow Burn, reader has tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuzzyPurplePenguins/pseuds/Bluebell%20Barricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At sixteen you get your first actual tattoo. It's a guitar, shaped like a phoenix, curving around your star Mark sort of like a crescent moon.</p><p>[A Bucky Barnes/Reader Soulmate AU featuring superpowers, heartache, and overprotective Steve Rogers]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all colors of the rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, before I even say anything else, let me address one thing: THERE WILL BE NO SMUT. Nothing anyone can or will say will change my mind about this. Okay? Okay.
> 
> This is my first time writing a Reader insert I actually planned on posting, and the first one that's ever actually gone anywhere. I'm kind of proud of myself.
> 
> Bucky will take a while to show up - it may be two chapters, it may be five. I don't know yet, I'm only halfway through the second chapter so just. Slow your roll.
> 
> Besides a couple of specific tattoos, I've left how many tattoos Reader has and what they are vague, because everyone has their own preferences and it felt right to include that.
> 
> (Also, feel free to imagine whoever you want in the role of your best friend CeCe - but I had Phoebe Tonkin in mind while writing this)
> 
> Enjoy~

It's been there since your birth, the silver outlined blood-red star mocking in the way it looks, marking you as someone else's property before you ever get the chance to become yours.  
  
So, when you're old enough, you start blending it in. Markers and ink pens at age twelve, drawing intricate and beautiful designs that your best friend CeCe helps you out with the areas you can't reach.  
  
It doesn't make much of a difference, really. Marks have a shine to them that make them impossible not to recognize. But it makes you feel a little better, so you keep doing it.  
  
Your teachers are irritated, but no many how times they put you in detention, you keep doing it. Every time they call your dad, he just smiles at you when you gets home and says _they look beautiful, sweetheart._  
  
It's hard being a single parent, and your father's always been a free spirit, anyway. Rules are suggestions to him. You love that about him, that he let you stay up later then most parents, and that he took you to all those rock concerts, even as a young child, cementing your love of Nirvana and Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones, all which lead you into your own rock culture of your generation.  
  
At sixteen you get your first actual tattoo. It's a guitar, shaped like a phoenix, curving around your star Mark sort of like a crescent moon. You show it off at the next concert CeCe nabs tickets to, loose black tank that contrasts beautifully with the red designs on your skin.  
  
You feel alive in a way you never have before. Your body, your decisions on what to do with it.  
  
You get a lot more after that.  
  
_Take that, future soulmate._

* * *

  
You're freshly graduated when two life changing things happen.  
  
One: CeCe's greyed-out Mark comes to life, in the middle of the downtown strip. It's a shining, silver hammer splayed on her neck, lightning bolts dancing out of it down over her chest. It's a hot day out, and you're both in tanks and short-shorts (but still in mostly-black), so it's easy to see as the color comes in, etching itself onto her bronze skin, weaving like a tattoo needle.  
  
"Cool," You say, and reach out to poke the handle of the hammer. CeCe squawks in indignation and slaps at your hand, eyes glittering in jest and joy.  
  
The second is less joyful.  
  
It happens a mere hour later, ice cream in hand and making your way to where CeCe's car is parked. A big commercial boat comes crashing into the dock out of nowhere, and green ooze floods onto the boardwalk. People are screaming - _you're_ screaming, metal melting beneath your hands in a hot way that should be burning you, but isn't, and this is the second time in your life you've felt that rare spark of _utterly alive_ and it's confusing but beautiful, in it's own way.  
  
Next to you, CeCe is trapped in a bubble of shifting water, eyes wide as her mouth moves, soundless; she's breathing, somehow, and it seems like eternity before the water collapses beneath her feet and the metal cools beneath your hands.  
  
"What the fuck," You say, and CeCe gives a shrill half-laugh, half-sob.  
  
Sirens and crying and hysteria echo in your ears as the two of you sit there on the pavement, covered in radioactive material that should have killed you and water (plus metal, in your case), until a Hazmat-ed rescue worker comes over, asks if you're alright as she sets to work.  
  
You tell her you don't know.

* * *

  
So, you can control metal now and CeCe can control water, and you're completely lost on what to do about it.  
  
So you do nothing - get yourselves summer jobs at the little mart at the end of CeCe's block, earning and saving every little penny for when you find where you need to go. Some of the older gentlemen customers are perverse, and some soccer mom types don't bother hiding their disgusted stares at your tattooed arms, but it doesn't matter because you haven't melted anything more important then the towel bar in the bathroom, and CeCe can actually handle bottled water without the bottles exploding.  
  
Two months later the sky splits open in New York and ALIENS come diving through it, wrecking havoc on Manhattan and the two of you watch on the little TV above the counter, eyes wide as World War fairy tale Captain America busts his way through - the Chitauri, the reporters are calling them.  
  
The more surprising bit, however, is when the camera pans to a shot of a big, long-haired blonde man in legitimate armor and a flowing cape, wielding a hammer that's an exact match to the one on CeCe's neck and shooting lightning.  
  
"I guess we're moving to New York, then," You eventually say.  
  
"I guess," CeCe echoes faintly, and that decides that.  
  


* * *

  
New York is nice. Busier then your city of birth, all colors of the rainbow, but there's a place for everyone if they look hard enough and you and CeCe are nothing if not persistent.  
  
The two of you squeeze into a tiny shoebox apartment in Queens. Not necessarily what you were imagining when you suggested moving to New York, but people leave the two of you well enough alone. CeCe suggests it's all your tats during your first time in a New York ink chair, and you stick your tongue out at her as the buzzing of the needle hums, familiar and soothing, and call her something less then savory.  
  
She just grins. She knows you well enough to know when you mean what you say and when you don't.  
  
"Hurry up and get your girly butterfly," She teases, and you squawk in indignation because that's the /last/ thing you would ever get, fucking hell CeCe.  
  
Her laugh echoes through the rest of the night.

* * *

  
A month and a half in, and CeCe hasn't mentioned her soulmate - the god of thunder, Thor - once.  
  
You take matters into your own, grabbing your phone and holding her down while snapping a picture of her Mark even as she yells the worse insults ever at you and flails hopelessly (she could try to use her powers against her, but you're stronger offensively, while she's better defensively).  
  
"It's time for action, Cecilia," You drawl out her full first name after you get the shot. She glares daggers at you and retreats into the kitchen for orange soda, muttering threats and suggestive ways to ruin your life all the while.  
  
You know she's just a little scared - being the soulmate of a superhero (of an Avenger, of Thor) is daunting, at least you assume so - but Cecilia Grant, your best friend, practically your sister, is no scaredy cat.  
  
You play with the idea of adding Instagram filters to the photo but ultimately reject it, and then send it off to the digital fan-mail inbox of the Avengers.  
  
"Now we wait," You say cheerfully when CeCe re-emerges, two mugs of cocoa in hand.  
  
"You could have at least been nicer about it," She sniffs, and you just grin and smack a loud kiss to her cheek as you steal a mug from her.  
  
"You know me better then that, Cecilia," You push your luck, and are rewarded with her pinching your side.  
  
There's a sudden loud clattering that interrupts your friendly banter as your phone vibrates off the table and onto the floor.  
  
You grin at her. "That was fast!" You say as you dive for it and answer the call. "Hello?"  
  
It's not the call you were expecting.


	2. caffeine for the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CeCe meets Thor. You make a new friend and Pepper Potts is a Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asjkdhjl three months since I posted this.
> 
> Whoops.
> 
> Uhm, have more? Still no Bucky. I did say it was going to be slow build.
> 
> Also my computer died since I posted this so, this chapter may look a little different since I'm posting on my phone. Rip.
> 
> Enjoy.

You get the call you were expecting three weeks later, when you've just come back home from your father's funeral (fates rest his soul, you hope he's in a better place surrounded by the things he loved 24/7).

You're all hoarse from crying and so your throat is all scratchy and rough when you pick up the unknown number.

"Hello?"

"My name is Pepper Potts, I'm sure you've heard of me and that you know what this is about," The woman on the other line dives straight in, and you gape at nothing for a moment, before pulling yourself together. This is an important phone call about CeCe's future. You can continue to mourn your father after it's over.

"...how did you even get my number? Nevermind, I don't think I want to know."

Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and probably hands-down one of the most kickass women you'd heard of, has amusement coloring her tone when she speaks again. "Perhaps not. Now, we've taken the past three weeks to authenticate the picture you sent of your Mark -"

"It's actually my best friend's," You interrupt, then wince. Probably not the best idea. 

Pepper remains silent, contemplative, however, so you press on, "She was being stupid about the whole thing, didn't want to do anything, so I thought-"

"Well, that doesn't change too much," Pepper interrupts you this time. "Thor would still like to meet your, friend-"

"CeCe. Cecilia," You fill in.

"-Cecilia as soon as possible. If she could drop by the Tower tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow is fine, Miss Potts, but there's no way I'm letting her walk into a place where she knows no one by herself. Few people know CeCe compared to how many the world over know the Avengers, so somewhere she's comfortable instead, and a chaperone for both parties."

Pepper pauses for a second. "I find that amendable. Do you have a place in mind?"

You rattle off the name and address of your workplace (a little coffee shop on a southern piece of the Queens-Brooklyn border), and then the two of you set a time - 3:30, just after you get off shift, say polite goodbyes, and hang up.

You sink back onto your couch and un-pause the old family videos of your father taking you to concerts you'd been watching before Pepper Potts had called.

xxxxxxxxx

"What do I even wear?" CeCe yells the next morning, clothes flinging all over her room.

You roll your eyes, spoon-deep in a gigantic bowl of Cocoa Puffs, feet kicked up. You're in your typical work clothes of dark skinny jeans and a rock n' roll tee, no-nonsense "don't fuck with me" (as CeCe calls them) boots, and you're just waiting on her.

"I'm having a crisis here!" She comes out of her room, frowning at you. Her hair's braided and she's in one of her Sunday dresses she only ever wears on special (holiday) occasions. 

You put your bowl down with an exaggerated sigh and take her by the shoulders, turning her back into her room, sitting her down on the bed. "Take out your braid."

"But it took me-"

"CeCe! You need to be yourself," You exclaim as you dig through her closet, picking out the pieces carefully - denim shorts (still warm enough for her to get away with it), a slight large black button-up to go over her favorite purple tank, embossed with 'Don't you think if I were wrong, I'd know it?' in shiny lettering, and finally, purple Converse. "Tada!"

"You're the best," She declares, just finished unbraiding her hair. It falls in soft waves around her face, and you grin at her.

"I know," You say, and saunter back out to your bowl of cereal. "You've got fifteen minutes or I leave without you!"

xxxxxxxxxx

The four-hour shift goes by quickly for you; for CeCe, however, it seems like eternity. It's written on her face every time she comes back to the counter to get another over-sugared macchiato, staring at you with her desperate, freaking-out wide eyes.

"You're being dramatic," You tell her in the last minutes of your shift, and hand her yet another macchiato. 

"If the positions were switched-" She starts, but doesn't get any farther, because suddenly there's a booming voice outside.

"I hope this place has Poptarts!"

The door swings open.

"It's a coffee shop, big thunder," The tiny, voluptuous brunette female at Thor's side says. "I don't think they're going to have Poptarts."

Thor - alien, god of Thunder Thor - pouts.

CeCe is just kind of gaping, so you sigh and come around the corner, dragging your best friend with you.

"Hi," You say, and introduce yourself - mostly to Thor's companion, because he and CeCe just seem to be staring at each other now, lost in their own world.

"What's up! I'm Darcy," She offers you a fist-bump and you laugh, accepting it. "Cute place here."

"No Poptarts though," You say with a tiny smirk, and she snorts.

"He'll get over it," She assures you, then turns back to Thor. "Oi, Thor-io. Let's go sit down. You're blocking the doorway."

Thor looks a bit like a kicked puppy. "My sincerest apologies, shield-sister of Cecilia," He tells you, and you try to contain your sudden urge to snort. 

"Don't worry about it," You say, and then repeat your name again for a second time before guiding them to the table CeCe's been 

As Thor takes the seat next to CeCe, you strip off your apron and head to the counter, ordering a hot chocolate, decaf espresso (Thor doesn't seem like he needs MORE energy), and a caramel cappuccino for Darcy, who just seemed like that kind coffee drinker.

"Are you psychic?" The brunette asks when you come back to the table.

"I wish," You say, and pass the coffee to her and Thor, nursing your hot chocolate as you sit besides Darcy.

The two of you talk about almost everything and anything - favorite memes, color, tv shows, who's the hottest superhero ("Clearly Captain fucking America," She says, but you shrug one shoulder and say you think Hawkeye's hotter. "Every time I see the face of Steve Rogers I just think 'omg, puppy'.") and why sugar is the best thing ever - but you make sure to steer far, far away from the subject of superpowers. 

An hour passes this way, with you and Darcy talking about pop culture, trying to hear over Thor's booming voice as he regales CeCe with tales from his home planet (you're trying not to think too much about that; superpowers are one thing. Alien gods are another).

Finally, your manager comes over to shoo you out because it's closing time, and the four of you find yourselves on the streets of Brooklyn, coffee cups in hand.

Thor looks a little forlorn at the thought of parting from CeCe, and you shudder at the thought of your best friend moping back home, so you turn to Darcy.

"Any chance we can get a tour of Avengers Tower?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader will be dealing with her feelings in patches. Right now she's pushing CeCe to happiness, so she's bottling it all up. We'll get to the dam burst, I promise.

**Author's Note:**

> You can visit me on tumblr at barricademojo if you want to talk about Bucky and how unfairly attractive Sebastian Stan is, or to join me in the Marvel trash compactor.


End file.
